


Pink Champagne on Ice

by drjanetwatson



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, ceiling mirrors, fun I had with vampire tropes I don't particularly like., vampire shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drjanetwatson/pseuds/drjanetwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vampire hunter's cheesy hotel room leads to a chance visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Champagne on Ice

**Author's Note:**

> So, as someone who finds the vampiric mirrors trope confusing and frustrating and I don't particularly like it...just roll with it, and enjoy.

The hotel room was the worst one I think I had ever stayed in, and that was saying something. It wasn't that there was anything utterly dreadful about it. In fact, it was more comfortable than most side-of-the-road affairs I had dealt with in the Midwest.

No, it was the fucking mirror on the fucking ceiling. How I ended up with this stupid monstrosity, well, you try finding a room on a holiday weekend in a busy city. It was stupidly jarring. I sleep on my back. I shouldn't have to look at myself as I'm trying to go to sleep, or at least the outline of myself in the dark.

I had been tracking Isaac, a vampire who liked to operate in the New Orleans area, for the last few weeks. I was done with bloodsuckers in the Southwest. I had staked and burned two vampires, a particularly unwholesome pair who had killed eight people. I moved on to better hunting grounds with better booze.

Most vampires were decent. They took only what they needed, and they didn't bother people too much. They went on with their nocturnal existences and didn't hurt people. A small percent, well, they just went wrong when they became the undead. No impulse control. A need to kill. They got a high off of it, of killing and taking the blood 

Isaac, I wasn't sure of, yet, but I knew he had killed. He ran an organized crime ring out of New Orleans, mostly smuggling, and he had killed to protect his interests. I had to do my research on him, and figure out if he was supernaturally evil, or just criminally horrible.

I had gotten in late. As soon as I had gotten over the fact I had a dumb mirror on my ceiling, I stripped. I was sweaty and utterly exhausted from a day on the road, in a shitty car with no air conditioning. I showered, quickly and efficiently. I toweled off, fell down on the bed, and surprisingly, fell asleep.

After a few years of vampire hunting, I sleep light. I keep my knife, silver of course, within hand's reach of me when I sleep. I must have rolled in my sleep, because I was in the middle of the bed when I awoke.

Someone was against me. They were warm, with smooth skin that sent a shiver down my spine just from how luxurious they felt. I heard their voice in my ear. “My,” It was male, deep and inviting, like really good liquor. “You're a pretty one, boy. By the way, a piece of future advice. Don't get a room with a window ledge. Makes it easier for us to get in.”

Isaac. I didn't know what his voice sounded like, but something told me it was him. I was paralyzed, fear seeping through my body. I should have killed him, tried to roll away, fight. But I was vulnerable, and he held me in his grasp.

“Here's what you're going to do, boy. You're going to look at the mirror. If you stop looking at the mirror, or you move, I'll stop. Or I'll kill you. I haven't made up my mind yet.” The light on the night lamp flicked on, and I saw myself, and only myself.

I had my hands to my sides, and I was totally nude. I felt the warmth of his skin slide down mine, and there was a dissociation between what I felt and what I saw. I was so frightened that I didn't even think to ask what he was going to do to me. Then it was made perfectly clear.

His large, warm hand wrapped around my cock, and I made a noise that was wholly undignified. In the mirror, I could just see my cock lifted, held up by an invisible force. He started to stroke me, and I stiffened in his grasp. “Shit shit shit.” I wasn't even going to try to tell him to stop. I wasn't sure if I even wanted him to. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had sex.

As I started to lengthen and harden in Isaac's hand, I should have probably raised objections to getting a handjob from a vampire, a murderer, and...Shit.

I felt his lips touch the crown of my cock. There was nothing I could see, just my cock, standing ramrod straight up as I felt more and more of my erection disappear into his mouth. Hot, wet, and with a tongue that slid beneath the head, licking the underside of my cock. That drew a noise that was entirely needy.

I didn't dare look down. I summoned the image in my head of Isaac that I had from the few pictures I had of him. The only part that my mind could summon right now were his eyes, dark and penetrating. Nothing else mattered, but the shiver that ran through my body at the thought of those hungry eyes raking over my naked, sleeping form. I should have felt violated. Instead, my hands clenched into the bed sheets, and I felt myself throb in his mouth.

Beads of sweat littered my body. It was hot, and the A/C in the hotel was just as fucked as my car's. Right. That's what I told myself. I panted, hard, knowing I wouldn't last long. I had spent so many months on the road, alone, that a phantom encounter with a vampire so surpassed my own ministrations that I could feel myself, just ready to burst.

Then his mouth left me, replaced with his slow strokes, putting just enough wrist in it to keep me going, but slow enough to keep myself on the edge.

Isaac's voice was in my ear again. “You're going to do something, boy. You're going to cum. You're going to spray yourself all over your stomach, those delicious abs, and then you are going to lay there. You'll do it, and if you move, do anything for five minutes afterwards, then I'll kill you, boy.”

His hand stroked faster, moving up and down the shaft, making me twist on the bed ever so slightly, writing as I felt my orgasm coming so quickly. I was going to shoot, and I wasn't going to be able to hold on.

“Do it, boy,” His voice hissed in my ear, and I did. I made a noise that was a whimper in my mouth, but rang like a scream in my ears. I watched as my cock pulsed, twitching violently as ropes of my own seed sprayed over my stomach. A few wet, thick lines marked my body, and every second of it was delightful.

I stayed entirely still as I looked at myself in the mirror. God help me, I wanted more. I wasn't sure I could ask for that. I was fucked up.

“That's a good boy,” Isaac whispered. “I know you're here for me. It's okay, you won't kill me, boy, you're not good enough. But you'll learn to see things my way. You'll see me soon.”

He was gone, then, and I could feel the hot breeze of air from the window he had left from. I closed my eyes, the hot air against my skin, the sticky feel of my cum, still there on my body. I wouldn't move for five minutes. I counted the seconds in my head.

I was already so deep in, I wasn't going to disobey Isaac now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, folks, this was my first attempt at writing explicit stuff in a while. Hope you enjoyed! Please, pleeeease, leave a comment if you liked it or have thoughts!


End file.
